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When thieves from the kingdom of Shiratorizawa break into the palace and steal the Heart of Nekoma, the king issues dozens of knights to bring it back. Kuroo Tetsurou, in his humble shack in the countryside, doesn’t understand what all the fuss is about.
“It’s just a rock, right? A symbolic thing,” he says one day, after knights come through his village and demand rations from the people. “Like a flag or an emblem.” He’s only ever seen it in paintings, tapestries, and carvings: a large, glowing amber floating above the king’s hand.
Bokuto Koutarou, his best friend and fellow troublemaker, shakes his head. “No, it’s more important than that! It’s like, enchanted or something. It’s the reason why Nekoma is so powerful.”
“Not powerful enough if Shittytorizawa can just waltz in and take it,” Kuroo observes absently, leaning his chair back and propping his feet up on the table.
“You should go get it. You’re sneakier than all those knights, and a lot less conspicuous. You’re a good thief too!” Bokuto says with a grin.
Kuroo smirks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Bokuto looks pointedly at the jeweled knife Kuroo is currently sharpening against a stone. Kuroo looks down at the ostentatious hilt, the rubies and sapphires glistening in the streaming sunlight from the window. He shrugs then.
“I just found this.”
“Yeah, on the belt of the tax collector that came by here last week.”
“What does a tax collector need with a knife? He could’ve hurt his pretty greedy hands with it. I simply took it to protect him.”
Bokuto sighs. “We’re not going to keep the money you make off that thing, are we?”
Kuroo grins. “Nope!” He stands, stepping toward the door, as he conceals the knife between his pants and waist, letting his tunic fall over it. He hesitates at the door then, looking back at Bokuto. “I wouldn’t worry about the Heart. I’m sure the king’s men are capable people. They’re knights after all.”
Bokuto nods in agreement, and Kuroo tells himself that he’s got enough to deal with trying to keep his village from falling further into poverty to risk his life on a mission that would most likely yield no satisfying result.
In the end, though, the knights fail to deliver the Heart back to Nekoma. The king grows more desperate, as more and more of his men fail. Bokuto nudges Kuroo about it time and again as the days pass, but Kuroo still doesn’t see why he should bother.
“Can’t the king’s magicians just . . . make another one?” Kuroo asks one night, frowning up at the ceiling of his home and trying to ignore the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that’s telling him he should go. That his moment hasn’t yet come, that there’s something out there that could make his life better. But the king hasn’t declared any sort of reward, so Kuroo does his best to ignore that strange urge.
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Bokuto says, shaking his head, his hair rustling against the rough pillowcase. “It’s supposed to be really unique. I’ve heard stories. It protects the kingdom and gives it strength to make powerful attacks during war times. It holds the kingdom together and makes things better!”
“It hasn’t made anything better for us,” Kuroo points out, turning his head to look at his excitable friend. He frowns faintly, as Bokuto looks back at him with wide eyes.
“How do you know it won’t though? You should find it and refuse to give it back until the king fixes our village.” Bokuto grins at this ridiculous plan, and Kuroo sighs, folding his arm across his face.
“He’d probably just have me killed if I did that. Go to sleep, Bo.”
Only a week later, however, the king decrees that anyone may search and procure the Heart. The reward is one million gold pieces, and that sets Bokuto screeching in Kuroo’s ear.
“ONE MILLION GOLD PIECES, TETSU! WE COULD HAVE THAT FOR THE VILLAGE!”
Kuroo grimaces and places his hand over Bokuto’s face, pushing him away. “Why are you in such a rush to get rid of me? I thought you were my best friend.”
Bokuto deflates immediately, biting his lip and poking his fingers together. “I don’t want to get rid of you,” he pouts. “I just think you’d be successful at it. You’re better at this sort of thing than the knights. They’re used to simply fighting things head on, but Shiratorizawa is strong. They need someone who can slip through cracks unnoticed. Someone with a cat-like tread and quick instincts. A schemer who can find a way to slide like a knife in and out of Shiratorizawa’s ribs.” He gives Kuroo a sidelong glance, and Kuroo has to admit that he’s enjoying the praises.
He sighs, running a hand through his wild hair. “What about you? Am I just supposed to leave you here with no one to look after you? You wouldn’t last a day.”
Bokuto brightens. “I can stay with Akaashi!”
Kuroo laughs. “Oh, he’d love that, I’m sure.”
Bokuto grins. “You really think so?” he asks, not catching the sarcasm.
Kuroo just grabs Bokuto in a headlock to ruffle his hair, and the two end up in a wrestling match that leaves them panting on the floor. As Kuroo presses his face into the worn wood beneath him, chest heaving, he feels the light touch of Bokuto’s hand against his arm.
“You’ll go and come back with one million gold pieces and everything will be good again,” he says with complete faith.
Kuroo’s chest aches, but he turns his head to grin at Bokuto. “Yeah, sure. Of course. I’m me, after all. I can do fucking anything.”
But when he’s standing at a crossroads, with a dark, ominous forest on one side, and what looks like a bog that’s probably full of all sorts of venomous things, Kuroo beings to wonder if he can do anything. This type of journey is unlike anything he’s traversed before, and as he checks his map for the road to the palace in the center of Shiratorizawa, he reminds himself that this is for one million gold pieces. That much money could restore homes, could purchase more seeds for their crops, could pay for medical expenses for those injured while working. He pockets the map, squares his shoulders, and turns toward the forest.
Not five miles in he meets his first troll. It’s a small one, but nasty. It takes him thirty minutes to defeat it, and Kuroo wishes he’d thought to bring a sturdier sword, because his breaks off inside the beast, and he has to continue on with just the throwing knives Bokuto gave him before he left.
These come in handy during one of his stops in a tavern when a mean-looking knight from Shiratorizawa decides to take offense to Kuroo’s face and picks a fight. He remembers to clean them and stow them away again carefully after he beats the man and leaves him bleeding in the street. He slips away before anyone can ask him questions, knowing that it’s best to remain anonymous.
He starts wearing his cloak up over his head as a hood to shield his features from those who might spread the word of his troublemaking. He tells himself to stop provoking people. It’s fun, but in this situation it can get him killed or hinder his mission. He learns to keep his head down and his mouth shut, which is difficult, especially when he hears people talking down about Nekoma, boasting about how Shiratorizawa will soon conquer the kingdom now that their Heart is gone.
Kuroo isn’t even sure where this sudden patriotism came from. He’s never held much love for his country, not with how his village has been treated over the years, but he finds his skin bristling, his annoyance prickling, whenever some drunken fool makes a snide comment about how Nekoma will soon come to ruin.
He manages to keep his head down and stay alive for the next couple of weeks, avoiding confrontation with citizens and trolls alike. By the time he reaches the center of Shiratorizawa, he’s tired, cranky, and more muddy and scuffed than he’s ever been in his life. He’s traveled this far, however, so he feels he might as well finish the job.
The walls of the palace loom above him, and Kuroo realizes that he doesn’t even know if the Heart is in the palace at all. To him, it doesn’t make sense that the king would keep Nekoma’s most valuable possession in the castle where everyone would expect it to be. Turning away from the parapets, he walks over to a bench in a nearby square, sitting down and pulling out a limp sandwich to eat as he thinks.
The city is large and bustling with people, as it’s midday. It’s probably the best time to make a grab for the stone, seeing as he can use the crowds to blend in and possibly cause a ruckus that will distract the guards from their posts. But that doesn’t solve the mystery of exactly where the Heart is in the first place.
He looks around the square, taking in the people moving back and forth, taking note of the white and maroon colors of the palace guards. As he watches the changing of their shifts, he notices that there are more guards than there should be gathered around a tower that’s meant for storing the city-wide rations. Smirking faintly, he rewraps his half-eaten sandwich, placing it back into his pack before standing and stretching.
Looking around for something that would create a suitable distraction, Kuroo saunters over to a couple food carts. While one seller is speaking with a costumer, Kuroo gives his cart a shove, sending it rolling into the next one with a crash. The second seller yelps in anger, and Kuroo ducks out of the way, as he goes flying toward the first seller. People begin to gather at the commotion, and it catches the interest of the guards. As the argument grows more heated, a couple of the guards break away from the rest, hurrying to investigate.
Using this as his moment, Kuroo slides behind them on silent feet. He places his hands on their shoulders, twisting down hard to pinch the correct nerves that would send them both to the ground. They drop immediately, unconscious, and Kuroo slips into the doorway, making sure it doesn’t close behind him. He knows the guards will immediately check inside for an intruder, and he doesn’t want to limit his options of escape. There’s a high window above him, but even if he could climb up there, he doubts he’d survive the drop to the other side.
The tower is full of crates, pouches, jars and barrels, and he sighs at the thought of having to look through each one. It has to be in there somewhere though, so he begins his search. Keeping one ear trained toward the door, he moves quickly, shifting through grain and flour with quick fingers. He’s only made it a few pouches down the line when he feels the wood give some beneath his feet. He pauses, looking down, and sees that the lines in the floor are darker here than around him.
“Gotcha.”
With a smirk, Kuroo opens the trap door to reveal a narrow rope ladder descending into darkness. There is, however, a faint glow of orange light far below, so Kuroo abandons caution and starts to climb down. It’s a clever hiding spot; he has to admit, as he uses the light from the door above him to make sure he doesn’t miss a step. He holds the rope tightly, moving slower than he’d like to avoid slipping.
It doesn’t take as long as he thought it would to reach the ground. The air is dry and stale, dirt shifting beneath his shoes, as he turns toward the light. He’s in a hallway, compact and constricted, and he fights against the feeling that the walls are going to close in on him. He steps forward slowly, wondering, not for the first time, why anyone would go to such lengths to protect a rock, mystical powers or no.
Running his fingers along the dirt wall, Kuroo makes his way to a circular room. There are several bookshelves set up along the walls, packed densely with books and scrolls. The light is coming from a fireplace set in the wall directly across from him, and Kuroo stares at the flickering orange flames. They’re giving off no heat or smoke, simply light, and it catches him so completely off-guard that he doesn’t notice the figure that approaches him until it’s right in front of him.
“You don’t look like a guard.”
Kuroo jumps back a couple steps, shifting his gaze to the person before him. It’s a young man his own age, perhaps a little younger. Short, with large golden cat-eyes and dark hair that frames his pale face like a curtain. He’s wearing the maroon and white of Shiratorizawa, and as Kuroo’s heart slows it’s panicked rhythm he comes to the conclusion that this must be the person the king chose to personally protect and guard the Heart.
He doesn’t look that impressive, though, and Kuroo wonders if he’s some sort of magician to be placed in such an important role. Telling himself not to underestimate this one, Kuroo surreptitiously slides his hand behind him, grasping at the knives he has hidden beneath his tunic at the small of his back.
“I’m here for the Heart of Nekoma,” he says, figuring there’s no point in lying about it. Surely the guards will have noticed the open tower door and the unconscious sentries before it. He hopes there’s another way out, and he flickers his gaze over the young man’s shoulder, searching for a second tunnel. He can see a four-poster bed, and a small table and chair set up by one of the bookcases. There’s a chest at the foot of the bed, and a chamber pot on the other end. There’s no sign of any place one might hide an amber stone, unless it’s in the chest, but this young guard is blocking his way.
Speaking of which, the guard looks back at him with a slow blink, his face expressionless.
“Are you going to kill me with those knives behind your back?” he asks then, pointing.
Kuroo starts, and lets his hand fall away, clutching one of them in his fist, though he keeps it down by his side. How had he known? Then again, he supposes it’s a fairly easy assumption to make.
“I’d rather not,” he admits. “But those Shittytorizawa soldiers will be down here at any minute, and I’d like to stay alive, if it’s all the same to you.”
The guard’s lips quirk it what might be a smile. It’s difficult to tell. Kuroo is getting antsy, and he bounces on the balls of his feet, glancing toward the chest once more.
“Look, I don’t want to hurt you, so why don’t you just give me the Heart, and I’ll do you a solid one day?”
The young man tilts his head slightly, and his stare is starting to unnerve Kuroo. His chest feels tight, and there’s a shivery feeling going up and down his spine.
“You do realize that if I’m the protector of the Heart, and you take it from me, it’s likely I’ll be killed for my negligence, right?”
Kuroo grimaces. This is a clever one. “What do you propose then?” he asks, the fingers of his free hand twitching against his thigh.
“Take me with you.”
This comes as more of a command than a request, and Kuroo freezes, studying the guard skeptically. His slight body is practically swamped by his clothes, which seem ill fitting to begin with. His pale face is pinched with signs of hunger, and there are dark bruises under his eyes.
“Uh, no offense, but you don’t look like you can hold your own in a fight, let alone travel many weeks through rough terrain. Plus it’ll be easier for me to escape the guards if I’m by myself.”
“So you’ll leave me here to die?”
The question is put forth calmly, with no indication of whether or not this would upset the kid, but Kuroo feels his skin prickling. “Shit, all right, you can come with me. Just . . . stay out of my way if we run into trouble. Got it?”
There’s that lip quirk again. The guard steps over to the chest, kneeling beside it to open. Kuroo leans forward, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever the guard is pulling out of it. But it’s small and quickly hidden within his clothes.
“Kozume Kenma.”
Kuroo starts, blinking blankly as the guard stands and turns toward him once more. “Feh?”
“My name. You can call me Kenma.”
Kuroo can hear voices shouting from far away, angry and frantic. He grimaces, reaching out to grab Kenma’s wrist, pulling him along as he turns toward the tunnel entrance.
“Kuroo Tetsurou. I’d say it’s nice to meet you but given the circumstances . . .”
Kenma says nothing, but allows himself to be dragged down the tunnel toward the trap door. The voices grow louder, and Kuroo curses under his breath, quickly pressing his back against the wall. He tugs Kenma close beside him, looking down into that calm face. It seems like their predicament has no affect on the lad, and Kuroo can’t help but find some amusement in this.
“All right, mister suave, is there another way out of this place?”
Kenma shakes his head. “Do you have anything to eat?”
Kuroo stares. “Excuse me?!” His amusement gives way to confusion, as he stares down at Kenma, completely dumbfounded.
“They only fed me once every three days. I need to eat something if I’m to help you,” Kenma explains with a long-suffering sigh, as though he finds Kuroo incredibly bothersome.
Irked by this but not wanting to take the time to argue, Kuroo flips his pack off his shoulder, reaching it to grab the half-eaten sandwich to shove against Kenma’s chest. “Please understand that if I’m caught I’m likely to be killed,” he says, much more flippantly than he feels the situation warrants, but it’s either that or grab Kenma at the shoulders to shake him, and he feels that option would be counterproductive.
To his credit, Kenma wolfs down the sandwich fairly quickly, and once he sucks the juice off his fingers he turns to step into the center of the hall. Kuroo watches him warily, as Kenma reaches into his pocket to draw out whatever he’d taken from the chest. He clutches it tightly in both hands, holding it in front of his lips. He breathes softly against whatever it is before shifting his gaze toward Kuroo.
“Close your eyes,” he instructs.
Something about his tone, or perhaps the way he’s looking at Kuroo, with an intensity that crawls under Kuroo’s skin, leaves him as transfixed as before when he saw those inexplicable flames. He stares, forgetting to close his eyes at first, as Kenma faces the ladder once more. His eyes begin to glow, a bright amber gold covering pupil, iris, and cornea, as whatever is in his hands begins to shine as well.
The guards continue to clamber down the ladder, swords drawn, but Kuroo doesn’t feel fear. A gust of wind swirls the dirt and dust around them, and Kuroo wonders where it’s coming from, before realizing that it’s emanating from Kenma’s hands. It blows back his hair away from his face, revealing his sharp cheekbones, lips pursed tight. The gold of his eyes glitters and seems to spiral slowly, waves of powerful magic pulsating through his slight body with enough force for Kuroo to feel it, even standing pressed against the wall.
He’s beautiful.
It’s the last thing Kuroo thinks before the wind sucks into Kenma’s hands, spinning faster and tighter until it explodes outward in a blast of golden light. Kuroo shields his face quickly, dropping to his knees. He can hear the clatter of metal as the guards also fall to the ground, and that’s when Kuroo remembers to close his eyes. He squeezes them shut tightly, as the thundering magic crests over him, pushing him further into the dirt.
Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, it’s gone. Not even a whisper left. Kuroo lifts his head slowly, just in time to see Kenma stagger back a step, sinking down. He leaps forward to catch the boy before he falls. Kenma’s eyes are back to normal, and his hands fall limp to his sides. A seemingly ordinary crystal slips from his grasp, and Kuroo moves to pick it up.
“This is the Heart?” he asks, decidedly unimpressed by its appearance despite the immense aura he’d felt before.
Kenma shakes his head weakly, his eyes falling closed. “Channels the magic,” he murmurs, slumping further against Kuroo’s chest.
He pockets the crystal, deciding to ask more questions later, and looks up to see the guards that had gathered lying in a heap at the base of the ladder. Hefting Kenma in his arms, Kuroo steps tentatively toward them, nudging one with his foot. Nothing stirs, and Kuroo wonders briefly if they’re dead. Deciding not to dwell on it, he shifts Kenma up over his shoulder, in order to grab onto the rope ladder with one hand.
“Sorry about this,” Kuroo says apologetically.
Kenma gives no indication that he’s heard him, and Kuroo begins to climb.
He half-expects to be surrounded by more guards once they reach the trap door, but when he climbs out onto the wooden floor, setting Kenma carefully against the pouches of grain, he finds the soldiers in the same condition as the ones below. Glancing sidelong at the boy, Kuroo wonders just how wide a range that blast had.
“Hey,” he says, nudging Kenma with his foot gently. “How come I’m not unconscious like the rest of them? You could’ve just escaped on your own and left me down there.”
Kenma opens one eye to look up at him. “I’m in no condition to journey on my own. They’ve been starving me so I couldn’t use my abilities. I don’t have the strength to make it on my own.”
A thought comes to Kuroo, but it seems completely absurd. Staring down at this small boy though, and remembering the immense power he’d felt underground, it’s the only thing that makes sense.
“You’re the Heart of Nekoma, aren’t you?”
Kenma nods wearily, closing his eyes once more.
“What the fuck?”
Two hours later, Kuroo is still incredulous at this revelation. As he walks alongside Kenma, he continues to glance over to study the small young man. After he woke from his catnap in the tower, Kenma insisted on getting food to gather his strength, and now he’s stuffing his face full of meat buns, looking around the city with wide, curious eyes.
“I still can’t believe that the Heart is a person. I mean, what the hell? I’m pretty sure everyone just thinks you’re a magical rock that the king somehow wields to protect the kingdom, but here you are and you’re a person and this shit is fucked up. Do they keep you underground in Nekoma too?”
Kenma stares down at his food, not meeting Kuroo’s gaze. “I have a nicer room. They give me anything I want.”
Kuroo blinks, reaching out a hand to place it on Kenma’s shoulder, stopping him from moving forward. “Wait, hold on. So you’re saying you’re a prisoner in Nekoma too? How did the king even acquire you?”
“I was born in the palace,” Kenma says quietly, looking away toward a puddle on the street beside them. “A sorcerer created me . . . sort of. He gave my mother potions while she was carrying me, so I would be born infused with magic.”
“So you’ve been living in the palace your whole life? Have you ever even been outside before?” Kuroo frowns faintly, feeling something twinge in his chest, as Kenma shakes his head. It seems cruel and unfair for anyone to keep a person locked away without access to the outside world, even if it was for their protection.
But as Kuroo stands there, studying this amazing boy next to him, he wonders if Kenma was kept underground for his protection or for the kingdom’s. Without thinking, he reaches out to brush Kenma’s hair behind his ear, exposing his profile. Kenma flinches, shying away from his touch, and Kuroo grimaces.
“Sorry.” He’s not sure what came over him, but Kenma hunches forward without a word and begins to walk once more. Kuroo shifts his hands into his pockets, scolding himself mentally, as he follows.
He doesn’t know this boy, and he has a mission to complete. He has to deliver him to the king and collect the reward. It’s a prospect that tastes somewhat bitter now, as he realizes that he’ll practically be sending Kenma back to a prison. But one million gold coins is a lot of money, and Kuroo’s village needs it.
To try and appease his guilt somewhat, Kuroo nudges Kenma lightly with his elbow.
“Hey. It’s about a month’s journey back to the palace of Nekoma. Is there anything you’d like to do before we get there?”
Kenma starts, tilting his head back to stare up at Kuroo, his normally placid expression shifting to something akin to surprise. “We can do anything I want?” he asks, his voice lilting higher, a flash of excitement in his eyes.
Kuroo grins, nodding. “Anything.”
“Can we stop in Karasuno?”
Kuroo winces, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, well, that’s pretty far out of the way. It’ll take weeks out of our journey, and we’re kind of on a time sensitive schedule here.”
Kenma’s expression flattens once more, and he turns back to his food. “Oh.”
Kuroo sighs, feeling like a monster. He reaches out to tug on Kenma’s hair, but retracts his hand at the last second, remembering how Kenma reacted before. “I’m sorry,” he says, truly meaning it. “It’s just . . . there’s a reward for your return and my village needs the money. We’re kind of . . . well, it’s really bad there, and a million gold pieces would do a lot to get us back on our feet.”
Kenma glances at him out of the corner of his eye, silky black hair falling forward to mask his face. “So you’re not a knight.” It’s a statement, not a question, and Kuroo shakes his head.
“No, I’m not. I’m not really knight material. I don’t have a lot of loyalty to the throne, and going out of my way to defeat dragons and trolls and whatnot isn’t really my thing. I don’t have that much honor. I’m only doing this because my village needs that reward.”
“Some might call that noble,” Kenma points out softly, shoulders by his ears once more.
Kuroo tilts his head, finding himself again taken aback by his companion’s perception. “I guess . . .” he says slowly, not sure if he entirely agrees. A thief couldn’t exactly be called noble.
“What’s in Karasuno?” Kuroo asks, after a few moments of walking in silence. Curiosity had gotten the better of him.
“Shouyou,” Kenma murmurs, his cheeks flushing a pale pink.
Kuroo lifts his eyebrows, feeling a leer crossing his features before he can reel it in. “Ohoho? And who is this Shouyou?” he asks.
Kenma lengthens his strides to step ahead of Kuroo. “A friend."
“You’re allowed to have friends?” Kuroo asks, catching up quickly. He can’t really see Kenma having many friends. He’s not sure how that would even work, with Kenma holed up in the basement of the palace and all.
Kenma shakes his head in response. “Not really,” he admits. “But Mori gave me a scrying glass and we sort of . . . stumbled across each other. He’s a magician-in-training.”
“Mori?” Kuroo repeats, trying to keep track of all these names.
“My guard,” Kenma explains, and then he frowns faintly. “I think he might be dead.”
Kuroo swallows, not sure how to respond to that. Kenma doesn’t offer anything else to further the conversation or change topics, so silence falls once more. It’s not long, however, before Kenma’s steps start to slow, fatigue evident in the way his body starts to sag, his head hanging low. Kuroo manages to catch him before he stumbles over his own feet and faceplants into the dirt.
“We should find a tavern to stay in,” he says, lifting Kenma into his arms. “But I don’t have a lot of money left, so it’ll probably be a distasteful one.”
Kenma says nothing, but he rests his forehead against Kuroo’s neck in an puzzlingly trusting gesture, and for a moment Kuroo simply stands frozen, feeling the heat of Kenma’s body pressed against him, feeling the whisper of soft hair against his jaw and neck. He’s not sure why his heart is suddenly pounding faster than before, but Kenma is light and warm in his arms, and Kuroo gets the sudden desire to keep him there for as long as he can.
Shaking his head to clear it, he starts walking once more, heading toward a tavern that seems moderately safe. He gives the innkeeper a hard look as he pays for a room, telling the man that he expects not to be disturbed. His intimidatingly handsome looks must work, because the innkeeper nods quickly and agrees.
There’s only one bed in the room, so Kuroo gently lays Kenma atop the sheets, and turns to make a pallet on the floor for himself with a couple pillows and a blanket. Before he can fully complete it, however, he feels small fingers curl into his tunic, halting his movements.
Kenma says nothing, his eyes still closed, and Kuroo waits until it’s clear Kenma isn’t going to explain. He doesn’t let go either, though, so in the end Kuroo takes that to mean Kenma wants him to stay. He climbs up onto the bed without protest, lying with his back against Kenma’s with a soft sigh.
“Goodnight,” he says to silence, and it’s not long before he finds his own eyelids drooping.
Several nights pass like this, with Kenma wordlessly insisting that Kuroo stay with him to sleep, and when they enter the woods and run out of taverns, Kuroo finds himself being tugged close on the forest floor. It surprises him, considering how Kenma shied away from his touch at first, but there’s still something comforting about being wanted, and Kuroo isn’t going to protest against a warm body to cuddle up to in the chill of the night.
Perhaps it should feel strange, since they don’t talk much during the day as they walk. Kenma answers Kuroo’s questions in short sentences, sometimes using only one or two words, and Kuroo feels like an idiot whenever he finds himself blathering on about Bokuto and his village. Kenma never asks him to stop, though, and sometimes makes small, interested noises that encourage Kuroo to continue. It feels nice, the attention, and it seems like Kenma enjoys it too, as he slowly begins to relax his shoulders and allows Kuroo to see his face more often.
Kuroo is reminded more than once that Kenma probably doesn’t know many people, and this is his first time out of his basement room. Often, Kenma begins to wander off the trail, distracted by a butterfly or a fox in the bushes. Kuroo has to drag him back, but he does so gently, allowing Kenma to marvel at nature a few minutes before insisting they continue. It’s endearing to watch Kenma’s eyes widen when he encounters something new. Kuroo finds himself grinning at the way Kenma’s fingers ghost over flowers and moss on trees.
When they stumble upon a brook, Kenma stands completely still for over five minutes, simply staring at the water running over and through the rocks, splashing droplets in the air that catch the sun and send a rainbow over the stream. Kuroo lingers back, with his hands in his pockets, his chest feeling strangely full, as Kenma approaches the water cautiously, almost as though he’s afraid it’ll disappear.
Kenma kneels beside the water and trails his fingers through it slowly. As he watches the fish dart back and forth beneath his hand, a small smile curls his lips, and he turns to look up at Kuroo. The smile widens when their eyes meet, and Kuroo feels it like an arrow piercing deep into his chest. He has to turn away, and he touches the place where it aches, right above his heart. It’s a strange sensation, one he’s never felt before, but he pushes it away, knowing now isn’t the time to dwell on such feelings.
They run into trouble on the second week. Kuroo wakes with his heart already pounding in his ears, instantly alert. The rustling of the bushes gives way to a band of men wielding large weapons and wearing nasty smirks. It takes Kuroo less than two seconds to leap to his feet, knives in both hands, as he stands over Kenma, who wakes slowly, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“Kuro—?”
Kuroo curses under his breath, glancing down at Kenma. He’s fully aware that they need to keep Kenma’s identity a secret, which means no displays of powerful magic.
Which means Kuroo has to fight five men on his own with only two small throwing knives.
He’s been in worse situations. Probably.
“We’re not looking for trouble,” he says as calmly and soothingly as he can. His normal instinct would be to provoke the men, and a comment on how ugly the one in front of him is bubbles up to his lips. He bites the words back, however, because Kenma is seated behind him, and he’ll be damned if something happens to him.
I’m protecting my investment, that’s all, he tells himself, when his brain apparently finds it helpful to make his heart pound a panicked rhythm at the thought of Kenma getting hurt.
“Give us everything you’ve got, and we won’t have any trouble,” the ugly one says.
Kuroo can feel Kenma standing, and when the young man steps forward, crystal in hand, Kuroo quickly holds his arm out to stop him. He shakes his head, staring at Kenma’s profile and willing him to listen, to stand back.
But Kenma raises the crystal to his lips and breathes. Something slams hard into Kuroo’s chest, snatching his breath away and pressing down against his ribs. It hurts more than he was expecting, and a sharp cry of “Don’t!” escapes his lips, before Kenma’s eyes begin to glow, and the wind rustles the leaves at his feet, lifting them into the air and swirling them around Kenma’s slight form, faster and faster.
Kuroo stumbles back, shielding his face, and the bandits look on in awe, transfixed, as Kuroo had been the first time he saw Kenma use this ability. The blast catches them unawares, flinging them into the trees. They land in heaps of limp extremities, and Kuroo lunges forward to catch Kenma, as his knees give out, and he sinks toward the ground.
“Dumbass, I said don’t,” he mutters, brushing Kenma’s hair back from his pale face gently.
Kenma blinks up at him slowly. “You couldn’t take them all on your own,” he says quietly.
“How do you know? You’ve never seen me fight. I’m pretty good at it,” Kuroo says. He knows they can’t stay there now, so he carefully sets Kenma down on the grass, before turning to pack up their campsite. “We don’t want people knowing who you are. Are they dead?”
Kenma glances toward the men, shaking his head.
Kuroo sighs. “All the more reason to avoid using your magic. The reward is large enough that I don’t doubt a lot of people are looking for you, and some of them will probably be more unsavory than me.”
Kenma smiles faintly. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
Kuroo pauses, shock and betrayal whirling through him, before he realizes that Kenma was joking. He’d made a joke. Pleased, Kuroo cracks a grin, shaking his head.
“I know; I’m the worst. But also the best. So it balances out.” He hefts the now full pack onto his back, before bending to lift Kenma into his arms once more. He seems heavier than before, which Kuroo takes as a good sign. “Still, I don’t want you using your power for me, all right? That’s not your job here. I’m going to protect you, and all you need to do is let me.”
“I wanted to though,” Kenma says softly, as Kuroo begins on the trail once more. His voice is barely above a whisper, but seeing as his face is close against Kuroo’s neck, he hears every word clearly. “It’s the first time I’ve ever wanted to . . .”
Kuroo tries not to think of what that statement does to his heart, simply continues forward without replying.
The closer Kuroo and Kenma get to Nekoma, the less inclined Kuroo is to turn him over to the palace to be locked away and used like some party trick whenever the king feels the kingdom is in danger. What good are the knights for if they can’t defend their country on their own?
He expresses this frustration aloud one night, as he and Kenma lay in a clearing, staring up at the stars above them. Kenma is silent, as per usual, and Kuroo wonders if he should apologize, seeing as Kenma probably knew some of the knights, even if they weren’t his friends.
“It’s always been my purpose,” Kenma says finally. His hands are by his sides, absently playing with the grass beneath them. He doesn’t move his head when he talks, and his voice betrays nothing of what he might be feeling. “I was born to serve the kingdom. I’m the brain and the heart of Nekoma. That’s what the king tells me.”
Kuroo had been lying with his arms crossed behind his head, but now he lowers one arm in order to shift his gaze over to Kenma’s profile. It looks delicate and soft in the moonlight, his small pointed nose peaking above his small, pink mouth. His cheeks are still somewhat round with youth, and his face has filled out some from the food Kuroo’s made sure he’s eaten on the journey. His wide eyes are staring at the sky, the stars reflected in the glass of them.
It’s a pretty face, a beautiful one, and Kuroo fists his hand in his tunic to avoid reaching out to stroke his fingers across that soft-looking cheek.
“You’re a person though,” Kuroo points out. “You have your own thoughts and feelings and desires. You’re not a doll to be used and then stored away when not needed. You’re more important than that.”
Kenma says nothing, and Kuroo wonders if he’s overstepped his bounds. He contemplates apologizing, but then again, he meant every word. The silence stretches between them though, and Kuroo begins to grow antsy. His fingers twist into the fabric of his tunic, and he turns his gaze back toward the sky. An apology is on his lips, and he’s just about to let it slip out reluctantly, when Kenma shifts closer and Kuroo feels the soft pressure of warm lips against his cheek.
Startled, he turns his head to look at Kenma, but the boy is already turning away, shoulders rising to his ears in a gesture Kuroo has grown to recognize as self-consciousness. Kuroo stares at the back of Kenma’s dark head, as the boy sits up and pulls his knees to his chest to wrap his arms around them. “Thank you . . . for being kind.”
“I’m always this kind,” Kuroo finds himself saying glibly before he can stop himself. He mentally slaps his palm against his forehead, as Kenma turns his head just enough to give him a frown over his shoulder. Shaking himself out of his stupidity (hopefully), Kuroo sits up and lays his hand against Kenma’s shoulder. He knows it must’ve taken a lot out of Kenma to make such a bold move, and he appreciates the gesture.
“Sorry,” he says quietly. “I’m an idiot.”
Slowly, he moves his hand to tuck some of Kenma’s hair behind his ear, before leaning close to press a light kiss against Kenma’s cheek. As he thought, the skin is soft and warm, and he feels his heart flutter pathetically in his chest, as he leans back. Kenma hugs his knees tighter, keeping his gaze trained toward the ground.
“I just think you deserve better than the life you’ve been given, that’s all,” Kuroo says with a shrug, before lying back down.
A thought’s been nagging at him for the past few days, but Kuroo hesitates to voice it aloud. He feels it’d be a betrayal to Bokuto if he doesn’t discuss it with him first, and Kuroo doesn’t want to get Kenma’s hopes up, though he feels like Bokuto won’t have much of a problem with his idea once he sees Kenma.
“We’re going to pass by my village soon,” Kuroo says, reaching out to tug lightly on the back of Kenma’s tunic. “I want you to meet Bokuto. Would you be okay with that?”
Kenma doesn’t respond at first, but Kuroo waits patiently. Finally, Kenma turns and moves to lie down beside Kuroo, pressing close to his side and burying his face against Kuroo’s shoulder. “Yes,” he agrees quietly, and Kuroo can’t help but grin.
“Holy shit!” Bokuto’s eyes are wide as he stares down at Kenma.
Akaashi looks on with seemingly little interest in his heavy-lidded eyes, but they’re trained on Kenma closely, and Kuroo finds himself chewing on his lip, hoping Akaashi won’t scold him for bringing such a valuable person into their village without notifying the sheriff at least. Kenma stands beside him, a step behind. His gaze is trained to the side, not meeting Bokuto or Akaashi’s gaze. Kuroo can practically feel the anxiety emanating from his small body, and he places his hand just beneath Kenma’s shoulder blades reassuringly.
“I know, it was a surprise to me too,” Kuroo says in response to Bokuto’s exclamation.
“That’s definitely not a magical stone!” Bokuto declares, pointing.
“Bokuto-san, you’re too loud,” Akaashi says with a small sigh, reaching up to pull Bokuto’s arm back down to his side.
“Look, I know this goes against what we planned, but I don’t want to take Kenma back to the palace. I want to keep him here, with us,” Kuroo says, keeping his eyes on Bokuto, though he can feel the weight of Kenma’s stare beside him. “They keep him locked up like a prisoner in the basement. That’s practically the dungeon. I can’t let him go back there. I’m sorry, Bo, I just can’t.” He shakes his head, internally pleading with Bokuto to agree with him.
But Bokuto is already nodding in agreement, eyes still wide. “No, shit! I mean, this changes everything! Who the fuck uses a kid to fight wars? I mean, there’s nothing really wrong with just continuing to do what we’ve been doing, right?”
Kuroo finds himself grinning. He suddenly can’t believe how he’d lucked out with such an amazing person as a best friend. He could kiss Bokuto, he’s that grateful. “Thanks, Bo. I knew you’d come through for me.”
He yelps then, as he feels small fingers pinch his arm hard. Rubbing the spot, Kuroo turns to look down at Kenma, who’s frowning up at him, scrunching his nose in an expression of displeasure. Kuroo feels his heart sinking toward his feet.
“What’s wrong?”
“You didn’t ask if I wanted to stay,” Kenma says pointedly. “Your village needs the money, and the king isn’t going to let me stay here if he knows I’m back in Nekoma. You should just hand me over to the authorities and let me go home.”
Kuroo feels his heart leaking out of his shoes, squashed and stomped and kicked into the corner. He swallows hard, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just . . . I saw how happy you were on our way over here, and you seemed sad whenever you talked about your time at the palace. I just . . . I want you to stay happy.”
“But if I stay, you’ll be punished if you’re caught,” Kenma says, his brow still furrowed faintly.
Kuroo forces a laugh, shaking his head. “I’m never caught. Don’t worry. Nobody has to know who you are.”
“They’ll ask questions about who he is and where he’s come from,” Akaashi points out, and Kuroo shoots him a glare. He stares back passively. “You and Bokuto-san are always rushing into things without thinking. This isn’t a large village. People will want to know who he is.”
“I’ll say he’s my cousin from Karasuno. We look enough alike, don’t we?” Kuroo asks, flinging his arm around Kenma’s shoulders, grinning so widely it hurts. Kenma stoops beneath his arm but doesn’t shrug him off.
Bokuto nods quickly. “Yes, yes, you do! That could work!”
Akaashi sighs. “I don’t like this, but I’m in no position to try to stop you.” He lifts his hands, before turning to exit the room.
Bokuto watches him leave, before turning to Kuroo. “I’ll convince him, don’t worry,” he says with a grin, and Kuroo makes a mental note to ask Bokuto to tell him everything that happened while he was gone.
For now, though, he takes Kenma back to his house and sets him up with a bath. To his surprise, Kenma begins to undress without asking Kuroo to leave, which causes Kuroo to stand awkwardly by the tub of water, trying not to stare.
“Uh, should I go?” he asks, embarrassed for Kenma’s sake.
But Kenma simply looks back at him with those amber cat eyes and shakes his head. “I want you to stay,” he says, before stepping into the tub and sitting down. He leans back in the water and doesn’t move. It seems like he’s waiting for something, and after a moment Kuroo steps forward hesitantly to kneel outside the tub.
Carefully he submerges his hands in the warm water, running his fingers through Kenma’s dark hair, extracting dirt and carefully unraveling tangles. The atmosphere seems heavy, and Kuroo’s skin feels hot. He feels something crawling underneath it, tingling through his chest, and he swallows hard.
Kenma’s eyes are closed, and his hands rest lightly on the edges of the tub. Kuroo’s heart is pounding in his ears, and he has no idea what’s going on or what to expect. This is the last thing he anticipated to do with Kenma, and the moment feels intimate in a way that seems inappropriate. He shouldn’t be kneeling here with his hands in Kenma’s hair, his eyes continuing to drift toward the murky outline of Kenma’s body beneath the water. Kuroo’s a thief and a scoundrel, and something about Kenma seems pure and innocent. He isn’t worthy to look upon the Heart of Nekoma, let alone do this. It feels like a sin.
But Kenma’s lips part, and he exhales a soft “thank you,” and Kuroo resigns himself to a life in hell if it means he gets to look upon Kenma and touch him in this way.
Weeks pass and things don’t get any easier. Bokuto decides he wants to move in with Akaashi, which Kuroo finds both amusing and disappointing. The house is too quiet without Bokuto’s loud voice and rambunctious antics. The noise has been replaced by Kenma’s quiet existence, which takes some getting used to. Kuroo keeps turning around to find Kenma sitting or standing behind him, startling him so badly he yelps in surprise. But Kenma simply blinks at him, and eventually Kuroo gets used to his silent shadow.
There are some nice changes though. Kenma knows how to cook, and Kuroo finds himself eating less burned rice and more savory meals. He likes how Kenma will sometimes flop himself down in his lap with a book, not caring if Kuroo is in the middle of sorting the contents of his “findings” that day, or simply resting in the late afternoon. He finds it endearing how Kenma waits for him at his doorstep every time he leaves for “work,” and when he surprises Kenma with a kitten one day, the joyous grin on Kenma’s face leaves Kuroo’s chest feeling warm and full the next three.
And every night he gets to hold Kenma close, a warm body still and comforting against him (not at all like Bokuto’s flailing midnight tango). The whole situation is nothing like Kuroo ever imagined wanting, but now he finds himself desiring nothing else. The villagers ask questions, of course, but Kuroo always finds a satisfactory answer, and as long as Kuroo continues to bring in food and money they don’t seem to mind an extra mouth to feed.
Something tells Kuroo that this won’t last. A niggling feeling of doubt that creeps into his mind during that time between sleep and wakefulness. It’s an anxiety that reminds him of the guards back in Shiratorizawa who saw his face, of the bandits in the woods who know of Kenma’s powers. But then Kenma will shift closer, or nuzzle his face against Kuroo’s chest, and Kuroo will banish those thoughts and tell himself over and over that everything will be fine.
He’s returning from a “job” when he sees the crowd gathered in front of his house. There are horses tacked with shiny leather gear, and the glistening of metal catches the sunlight, nearly blinding Kuroo as he draws closer. His heart leaps into his throat, as he recognizes the lion with an amber stone in its mouth on the flag a young squire by the horses holds in his hands. The king’s men have found him.
Three knights stand before his door, and Kuroo makes sure to chuck his pouch of stolen goods into a nearby hay bale. He catches the eye of Akaashi in the crowd and gestures to it. Akaashi’s lips purse, but he nods, and grabs the arm of Bokuto beside him to drag him away from the scene.
“Is there a problem here, sir?” Kuroo asks one of the knights closest to the door. It’s a short man with spiky black hair. He appears to be a captain, if the colors on his waist are an indication of his rank.
“We’ve heard reports that the Heart of Nekoma is back in the country and is being held by a man with wild black hair and cat eyes.” The captain studies Kuroo, his gaze moving slowly up and down his frame.
Kuroo chuckles, rubbing his sweating palms against his pants, before striking a pose. “Was this man devilishly handsome like myself?” he asks with a grin, forcing himself to keep his gaze on the man and not the doorway to his home. He really hopes Kenma had the sense of mind to escape out the back when he heard the knights approach.
“Don’t play us for fools,” the captain snaps, his expression darkening. “We know from the tax collector that there’s an extra villager in this town, and you seem to fit the description given to us by our sources.”
“Is it likely your sources were mistaken?” Kuroo asks, his heart pounding rapidly. He can feel it pulsating through his body, and his muscles tense. He rises on the balls of his feet slightly, wishing he had his knives. But they’re inside since his job required a slide of hand not weaponry.
“Do you have the Heart or not?” the captain asks.
“I don’t have anything you need,” Kuroo says truthfully, holding his arms out to the side. “I am but a humble villager trying to help keep his town from being run into the ground by his majesty the king’s incredibly fair and lenient taxes.”
The captain’s gaze narrows, before he turns to the rest of his men. “Search the house. We’ll determine whether or not you have what we need.” He gives Kuroo a hard stare, telling him to stay put.
Kuroo grins easily, despite the panic rising quickly into his throat. He digs his nails into his palms, as the knights enter his home and start to rummage through it. He can hear his bed being overturned, his wardrobe being ransacked, but he bites down on his lip and remains where he is, silently praying that Kenma isn’t there.
“We found nothing, sir,” one of the men says to the captain, as the group exits the house.
Kuroo feels his knees go weak with relief. “I told you,” he can’t help but say pointedly.
The knight frowns but nods, and turns to lead his men back to the horses.
And Kenma turns the corner of the street, a kitten caught between his hands.
For a moment everything freezes. Kenma stands still on the cobbled stones, the black and white pet he named Shou-chan dangling in front of his chest. His eyes widen, and his gaze flickers to Kuroo, who feels the tension break with a thunderous clap, as the captain points to Kenma.
“There! Grab him!”
“No!” Kuroo shouts, flinging himself against the captain.
He’s easily stopped and thrown to the ground, but he jumps back to his feet immediately. Spinning away from the captain’s reaching grasp, he quickly grabs the nearest knight’s sword, swinging it free from its scabbard. He positions himself in front of Kenma then, his heart somehow managing to remain steady, despite the fear and anger rushing through him.
“You’re not taking him,” he says flatly.
The captain gestures and the three other knights descend upon him at once. Kuroo realizes quickly that he’s outmatched, but he swings with all his might despite that fact. His wild slashes do manage to keep the men at bay to start, but when it’s clear he lacks experience, they advance once more. With a single flick of his own sword, a knight disarms Kuroo. He finds himself falling to the street, as a second knight kicks his side.
He scrambles to grab hold of the man as he kneels, but his arms are pinned behind him by the first knight, and a fist lands against his face, over and over, until his vision swims, and his limbs feel heavy.
“Stop! Stop! Please!” A sharp cry rings out, and the knight beating Kuroo pauses, lifting his gaze to look at Kenma, who’s standing alone now, Shou-chan nowhere to be seen.
Kuroo lifts his head, squinting at Kenma through the haze of blood that obscures his sight. Kenma’s face is pale, and his eyes are wet with tears. He holds out his hands, and Kuroo can see them trembling even from where he lies in the dirt.
“I’ll go with you. Please stop hurting him,” Kenma says softly, his voice wavering.
For once he’s not expressionless, but the look Kuroo sees on his features is painful to see. There’s fear and despair, and worst of all there’s anguish behind his eyes, as though simply seeing Kuroo injured wounded Kenma as well.
He shouldn’t do this for me. I’m not worth it.
Kuroo opens his mouth to say this, to tell Kenma to run, but the captain of the knights is already stepping forward with a length of rope, tying Kenma’s hands together. He searches Kenma’s clothes, finding nothing, and Kuroo realizes that Kenma’s crystal must still be back in the house.
“Can I say goodbye?” Kenma asks once his wrists are tied securely in front of him.
The captain grunts, but it isn’t a no, so Kenma approaches Kuroo slowly. He crouches in front of him and stares into his face, and Kuroo manages to shake his head with a weak smile.
“You didn’t have to do that. I could’ve taken them.”
Kenma doesn’t smile. Instead, he reaches out to steady himself with his hands gripping Kuroo’s shirt. He leans forward, pressing his lips firmly against Kuroo’s. The pressure stings against the split in Kuroo’s lip, but he finds himself tipping into the kiss, his own hands moving to cup Kenma’s face. His skin feels shivery, and he barely feels the pain in his ribs and face, thanks to the warmth of Kenma spreading through him.
It only lasts a few seconds, before Kenma pulls away. “You shouldn’t have been this kind,” he says quietly, his face blank once more, aside from a flicker of regret in his eyes.
Kuroo shakes his head, moving his hand to brush Kenma’s hair behind his ear. “It was worth it,” he admits gently, his chest aching.
He wants to grab Kenma and run away, but his body trembles with fatigue, and his muscles burn from exertion, and he knows they wouldn’t make it far. Still, the pain in his heart almost rivals that of his wounds, as Kenma stands, moving out of reach to join the knights by their horses. The captain grabs Kenma around the waist, hefting him up onto the horse, before swinging up behind him.
As they ride toward the edge of the village, Kuroo feels his eyes burning, frustration and anger and something like despair welling strong within him, threatening to burst. He feels like he wants to scream, but no sound issues from his mouth, even as his lips part. The feeling of loss is too great and deep to be contained in a simple shout.
Kenma glances only once around the captain’s arm, just enough to catch a glimpse of the broken man he’s leaving behind.
I’ll be waiting for you to find me again, Kuroo Tetsurou. So don’t give up.